Blood of a Lover
by The Ink Stained Quill
Summary: After an attack on Hogwarts from the enemy,the entire school is relocated to Malfoy Manor.Nothing seems to be simple for Ginny anymore.Someone is out for her blood,and Draco Malfoy is somehow involved.Not only this,but she may just be in love with him!GxD
1. Of Weasels and Ferrets

_**-Set after the events in Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince- **_

_**The trio decided to finish off their education before beginning their quest for Horcruxes**_

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**_Ginny Weasley & Draco Malfoy  
_**

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**All encompassing disclaimer: my humble work is as a twig to the forest of JKR's work. Not mine!**

**I really should be working on my other stories, not starting a new one, but /sigh/ I cannot resist this one!**

**Hope you enjoy! Remember to review and let me know what you think!**

**Lizzy, The Ink Stained Quill  
**

Chapter One: Of Weasels and Ferrets

Ginny Weasley and her best friend, Colin Creevey, wandered aimlessly through the halls of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. In truth, the only reason they were walking at all was that it made excuses easier if they were to run into a prefect. Both Ginny and Colin were now entering their sixth year. The dreaded O.W.L.s were behind them, both passed (Defense against the Dark Arts, Herbology, Potions, Charms, and Transfiguration) and failed (Divination, History of Magic.)

"Compared to last year," Colin said with an expansive gesture. "Things will be just too easy. Fewer classes, no really bad exams, nothing. What'll we do to keep ourselves busy?"

"I'm sure we'll find something," Ginny smiled. "We always do."

"Come on, Gin, lets get back to the common room before they send a search party."

Ginny paused by a rain-lashed window overlooking the Lake, and sighed. "I wish I could stay inside on a night like this."

"Quidditch?"

She nodded. "Harry seems bound and determined to have the team be at its best, a month and a half before the matches even begin."

"From what I've heard, Oliver Wood was worse. What is it about the Quidditch Captain badge that makes people go insane?"

"Only the boys, Colin. Verina Windridge, Hufflepuff's new captain, is just as sane as she's always been. Saner, since she dumped that git Harvey Perwin."

For a few minutes they ambled on in a comfortable silence. Ginny stopped to retie her shoe. The laces were forever coming undone, probably because she was the fifth Weasley to own then and they were in a rather sorry state. Indeed, her whole appearance gave the impression that nothing quite fit or stayed together. The too-long, tattered, hand-me-down robe she was wearing did nothing for her tall, narrow frame. The little she had in the way of womanly curves were obscured by the thick fabric.

"Ginny? Stand up," Colin said in a tone she hadn't been expecting. It was nervous, on the edge of fear.

Hastily, she tied a final knot and stood to see a pair of tall Slytherins walking toward them. She recognized them instantly as Malfoy and Zabini, both prefects, both bad news.

"Do you have your camera?" she asked.

Colin shook his head. "Why? Do you think they'd go easy on us if I just offered to take their pictures?"

"No, but people might like to see our last minutes. You know, at the funeral."

He grinned.

"Well, well, well," said Malfoy when he drew within their range of hearing. "If it isn't the Weasel and her boyfriend."

"Well, well well," she replied smiling sweetly. "If it isn't the Ferret and his."

Malfoy gave her an all out glare, but Zabini just shrugged and looked curiously at her.

Malfoy took a menacing step forward. If he was trying to intimidate her with his considerable hight, he was out of luck. He was only a few inches taller then her, and she was used to having six extremely tall older brothers attempting to boss her around. "That was out of order, Weasley. You--"

"I'm sure your planning to give me any number of fiendish punishments, but I'm warning you, in case you've forgotten, that the person who gives the detention is obliged to supervise it. Think about it. Come on, Colin."

She put a hand on his arm to turn him around (common sense said never to turn your back on a Slytherin, particularly one you have just insulted, and Colin was nothing if not practical).

"I didn't give you permission to leave, Weasel."

"I didn't ask for it, _Mr._ Ferret, _sir."_

"Detention every night for a week."

She smiled even more sweetly at him. "Whatever you say, Malfoy. What'll Parkinson say when she hears you've given her up for a whole week just so you can spend time with a Gryffindor, and a Weasley one at that!"

To her complete shock, Malfoy and Zabini both smirked. Zabini even seemed to be having trouble smothering a few laughs.

"What?" said Colin. "You think she can't make life a living hell for you? Try really offending her, and you'll get the bat bogey hex."

"When you see Weasel senior, Weaselette, ask him what he's on his evening for the next week."

With that the two seventh years continued down the hall and off to whatever unpleasant business Slytherins preferred to devote their spare time to.

"What was that about?" she asked Colin. "D'you suppose Ron has detention too?"

"Would you be surprised?"

"But its only the first week of school!"

"I could say the same thing to you, Gin. And what would you tell me?"

"To mind your own business, in a very rude fashion. But you would be right, I suppose."

"Ginny, what possessed you to insult and provoke him that way? He's bad enough when he doesn't have a reason, let alone when he does."

"Well, when people snark at, me, I snark right back. If you were a younger sibling, you'd understand."

"Dennis doesn't snark at me."

"But you're a _nice _older brother. There's a difference. Like there's no constant vying for the upper hand."

Colin grinned. "Let's hurry. or you won't have time for any dinner before Quidditch practice."

Ginny moaned softly. "I wish my detention was starting tonight so I could give the flying shower a miss."

"I'll smuggle some hot chocolate into Gryffindor tower somehow, Gin. And there are spells to repel water."

"You still feel wet, even if it get slides off."

"Stop whining, dear. You sound like Crookshanks when he wants to be scratched."

"At least I come sans claws!"

Colin laughed. "You have plenty of claws, Gin. There's the Portrait now!"

The Fat Lady looked down at them imperiously, her forever-pink dress decidedly unflatteringly. "Password?" she said, stretching the word out. _'Paaaahswaaaahrd?'_

"Trichotillomania," Ginny said, and clambered through the hole that was revealed as the Fat Lady swung forwards.

"What does that even mean?" Colin said as he followed her.

"I'm not sure. I only remember the Professor McGonagall saying that Peeves would like it."

"Ginny!" a new voice: Dyana Smitheton, a girl in Ginny's year. They were friends, but not close. There was an irreconcilable difference in outlook between them. Ginny wanted to do something with her life, be an Auror or a professional Quidditch player, or even a Healer, while Dyana's sole goal in life was to attract as many boys as possible. Ginny sometimes thought that her sole interest in magic was the beautification vein. Would she even be in Hogwarts if it weren't for the occasional charm they learned that could be used to curl eyelashes, of a potion that would make hair smooth and shiny?

"What is it, Dy?"

"Harry told me to give you a message," she paused, "Hi there, Colin." The flirtatious look on her face was almost laughable.

_You wouldn't make calf-eyes at him if you knew just how utterly uninterested in you and your batting eyelashes he is, Dyana, _Ginny thought, then realized, _Yes, she probably would._

"What's the message?" she prompted.

"He said to say that he hopes you aren't going to make a habit of being late for practice. And there was something else. Um, he said to say . . . I remember now! He said to say that you had better get down there quickly, or he might be forced to let Dean onto the team after all. I don't know what that means, but--"

"Shoot!" Ginny said explosively. "I'll miss dinner, _and_ Harry's threatening to kick me off the team. Shoot!"

"I'll try and get you some food too, Ginny. Run!"

"Thanks, Colin, see you later if Harry doesn't kill me! Bye, Dyana!"

She dashed off to her dormitory and snatched up her broom. It was a Cleansweeps 15, nothing too flashy but a decent enough flyer. As she made her way back toward the Portrait, dodging fellow Gryffindors, Colin caught her arm.

"Impervius," he said, and tapped her nose with his wand. Small blue sparks issued from the tip. "I knew you'd forget," he explained.

She hugged him around the shoulders. "Thanks again, Colin."

"Tell Harry," he called after her as she slipped through the portrait hole, "That if he does kill you, I'll be out for revenge. I have a camera and I know how to use it!"

Still smiling at her friend's words, Ginny ran down several corridors, navigated six flights of shifting stairs, raced through still more corridors, out the enormous door that led to the grounds and the driving rain, and all the way to the changing rooms at the Quidditch Pitch.

As soon as she was dressed in her Quidditch robes, she went once again into the punishing rain, mounted her broom, and joined the other members of her team in the sky.

It was a hard practice, made harder by Harry's insistence that they use the entire three hours set aside for the practice. The rain was falling so hard that it hurt. Bludgers went arry, the snitch proved uncatchable, and the quaffle was beaten off course.

When Harry finally let them land, they ran for the changing rooms, shivering.

"Ron?" Ginny asked through chattering teeth.

Her brother glared morosely at her. He had missed quite a few goals, putting him a bad mood. "What?" he said grumpily.

"Do you happen to have detention this week?"

His expression darkened. "Yeah, I do. Damn, I'd forgotten. That cow Parkinson caught me using spelling-correcting ink. How'd you hear?"

Ginny pretended not to have heard the last remark.

"Ginny, I want to talk to you," Harry said sternly in his no-nonsense, I'm-the-captain-of-this-Quidditch-team-and-I-_will-_be-obeyed look.

"Alright," it didn't hurt to be cautious. Harry had been a little weird around her since they broke up.

Harry waited until all the others were gone before he spoke. "Look, Ginny," he said. "You need to decide whether or not you are committed enough to the team to stay on it."

"Harry, I was late for _one _practice! That's all! It was a mistake, and I'm very sorry. But I think you're blowing the whole thing out of proportion. "

He passed a hand over his face. "Maybe you're right. The truth is, I'm tired, and not looking forward to another hour on my broom trying to get that rotten snitch. So I'm going to be honest with you. I don't want you on the team, Ginny. Don't get me wrong. You're an amazing chaser, better then the other two easily. Thats great. I want your skills on the team, but I just don't want _you."_

Silence pressed on her ears. His words stung. But he was right. If she was disruptive to the team, no matter how good she was, they would be better off without her. Hot words sprang to her lips, angry words. Maybe he deserved them, but she swallowed them back down. She really didn't need to fight with Harry on top of detention with Malfoy.

"Give it a chance, Harry. We've been friends for a long time. Give yourself time to get used to the way things are. If it doesn't work out, then go ahead and kick me off the team. I won't make a fuss. Just promise me that you'll give it a chance first!"

"Alright. " he let out a sharp sigh. "Its not your fault that I'd rather watch you then the snitch. I promise."

"Thanks. You go ahead. I'll catch the snitch. I have some stuff I need to think about anyway."

He opened his mouth as if to protest, then closed it. He brushed a strand of dripping red hair off her forehead. "You're too nice to me."

"Bye," she said, and mounted her broom again.

Through the rain, she could just barely make out his shape, watching as she rose into the air, then turning and striding off toward the castle.

_Come on, Ginny. You used to be a seeker. Go on. You can do this. . . _

-

An hour and a half later, she stumbled back into Hogwarts, exhausted and dripping.

"Why oh _why _did I offer to do that?" she asked the empty air. No answer came. She had forgotten that while Harry, as a seventh year, was allowed to be out and about at this late hour, she had a nine o'clock curfew. She was lucky that the front door wasn't locked yet. But she didn't have a hope in hell of getting back to the common room without being caught by either Filch or Mrs. Norris, or a prefect on patrol.

As if her very thoughts had summoned them, she heard footsteps approaching. Heavy, more then one set. Before she could even think about hiding, Crabbe and Goyle emerged into the Entrance Hall.

_I seem to be having a serious problem with pairs of Slytherins today._

They stopped. Stared at her. Looked at each other. Back at her.

"Weasley," said Goyle.

"We've been looking for you," Crabbe's voice was more like the grunting of a dying rhinoceros then the speech of a human being.

"For me?" Ginny fingered her wand in her pocket. A well placed bat bogey hex might get her out of this situation, but it would certainly put her in another. _Its only the first week of term! I don't want _more_ detentions lined up for me! _Better to see what they wanted and if they were willing to negotiate. Or rather, if they were capable of negotiation. She had never been able to fathom how a pair of such stupid prats had managed to make it into the seventh year. It was still a hotly debated subject whether or not they were capable of reading and writing. The general consensus was yes. How else could they had passed the written portions of the O.W.L. examinations?

"Yeah, Weasel Guts. For you."

"What a charming name. Shall I call you Pudding Face and him Boil, then?"

"What're you on about?"

Goyle broke in. "I don't care what she's talking about. We're supposed to take her back to the boss."

"Right. The boss."

Ginny was beginning to get really nervous. 'The boss?' Had Malfoy decided that her detentions couldn't wait? Or had someone tipped him off that she was out late?

"Do we knock her out or just carry her?"

"Knock her out."

"Right."

And before she could do a thing about it, a fist the size of a ham slammed into her skull. Darkness seeped into of the edges of her vision. The last thing she heard before she collapsed was Goyle saying, "Blimey, she has a hard head."

-

"Ennervate."

The word echoed through Ginny's mind as she came to awareness. It was dark. At first she thought her eyes were still closed, but after fluttering them open and closed several times, she realized that her surroundings were perfectly black, black as a moonless, starless night. The perfect, unbroken darkness that belongs only in crypts.

"What --"

"It's alright," said a familiar, muted male voice. She jumped. It was the same voice that had spoken the spell.

"Zabini?" she asked, incredulous.

"It's alright Ginny," said a very different voice. "I think he's okay."

"Colin?"

"Yeah," said Zabini. "I caught your little friend sneaking around, apparently looking for you."

"So then Zabini decided to act the big, bad prefect. You know, give me detention, dock points off Gryffindor, escort me back to the seventh floor in shame," said Colin, startling Ginny with the comfortable way he addressed the seventh year. "Then we heard all this banging and thumping in the Entrance Hall."

"Something about Weasel Guts and Boils," Zabini added. "There were Crabbe and Goyle ready to drag your senseless body off to do Merlin knows what. They both ran off as soon as they saw me and Creevey."

He really did sound remarkable . . . _not evil _for a Slytherin. Almost friendly.

"What were you doing out so late, Gin? And you're soaking wet."

"I was catching the snitch," she said absently. "Where are we?"

"I thought that was you precious Potter's job, Weasley. Are you so much of a push over that all he has to do is kiss you and you'll do what ever he says?" Her cheeks flushed, and she was glad it was dark. _There _was the tone of Slytherin malice whose absence she had noted.

"It was only a favor, Zabini. Friends do each other favors now and then. He was really tired, and I needed to think about a few things."

"Such a devoted little girlfriend he has."

She let out a sharp sigh. "Look, Harry and I broke up months ago. I am one hundred percent over him. I am not his girlfriend anymore, nor do I have any desire to be. It was a little girl's crush on what she view as the perfect man, nothing else. Now please tell me where we are!"

There was a rustle of robes, as if Zabini had shrugged. "Under the second staircase out of the Entrance Hall. "

"Can we get out now?"

"No."

"Colin, do you know how to get out?"

"Sorry, Gin."

"Is there any chance that you'll ever let us out of this pit, Zabini?"

"When Malfoy arrives, we'll go somewhere else. We need to talk."

"Sorry, but I don't really fancy talking to Malfoy right now. I've had enough pain inflicted upon me for one day." She dug around in her pocket for her wand, ignoring the droplets of water that landed on her face and hands. "Lumos."

Her wand tip lit up, revealing many spiderwebs, a dusty stone floor, and, barely visible -- a door.

"Goodbye, Zabini. Give Malfoy my regards." To her surprise, he made no more to stop her as she opened the door and walked through, Colin right behind her.

"It doesn't matter if its now or later, Weasley," he said.

"Let's go!" Colin said.

Only when she was safely in Gryffindor Tower, eating a roll that Colin had snuck her from dinner and in warm dry clothes did it occur to her to wonder whether Zabini wasn't the 'boss' Crabbe and Goyle had been talking about. Or even Malfoy. After all, they followed him around like puppies.

_Doberman puppies, _she thought, and fell asleep.

* * *

**What do you think? Review and let me know! -Lizzy**


	2. Toil and Trouble

Chapter Two: Toil and Trouble

"Colin," Ginny said as she slid onto the bench next to him at breakfast on Saturday. "I'm going to go mad."

He patted her on the back. "Well, I hope you've thought through all the ramifications of your decision, love. But if you really feel that that's what you want to do with your life, I'm behind you all the way."

She laughed half-heartedly. "That's not _quite _what I meant."

"Oh, good. I'd have hated to have to explain to Ron." He took a sip of pumpkin juice, studying his friend over the rim of the goblet. "You look tired, Gin."

"Yeah," she yawned. "I am. The powers that be seem to be smiling on me, though. At least its a Saturday." She reached for a piece of toast. "Another lovely weekend filled with lovely homework, and the loveliest prospect of all, detention with Malfoy for a week starting on Monday after this wonderful weekend."

"You're cheery today."

"Its just my sunny disposition showing through, right?"

Wisely, Colin decided not to ask her what she thought Zabini was on about the night before, though he was dying to. When it became apparent that Ginny had no desire to do anything to her toast but stare morosely at it and prod it with the butter knife, he said, "Why don't we go to the library and get a head start on that essay we've got for Professor Sprout? Its the only really hard bit of homework that we've been assigned, other then that awful bit on snaring jinxes for Professor Wervon."

Wordlessly, she stood and followed him out of the great hall. Professor Wervon, the latest Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, was a fat, bespectacled old man who had clearly never done much in the way of his subject. He was also very fond of assigning long and rather pointless essays.

Half an hour later they were seated in a tucked away corner of the library far from the gaze of Madam Pince with books scattered around them and ink staining their fingers.

"Pass me _One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi, _would you?" Colin asked.

"Harry wants me off the team," Ginny said without preamble.

He looked up from his essay, shocked. "What! Why? You're the best chaser they've had in years!"

"Apparently, I distract him from the game."

"Well that's his own bloody fault, isn't it?"

She let out a sharp sigh. Colin never quite looked at things the same way as she did. For all it provided interesting conversation, it was sometimes a pain in the neck. "Its not as simple at that."

"I don't see why not!"

"With a Quidditch team, or any team I suppose, fair isn't on the top of the agenda. What really matters in how everyone works together. Say you were the captain of Gryffindor's team. Your seeker, Harry, keeps getting distracted from the game by a chaser, me. Who's more important, a seeker or a chaser? You would get rid of me, not him. Not to mention that Harry is the captain, and really couldn't throw himself off the team without serious confusion."

"So you think it alright that he wants to throw you off the team when you've done nothing wrong? When its his own fault that he isn't over you yet? He has a nerve! 'Sorry Ginny, I'm kicking you out of the team because I still wish you hadn't finished it?' That has the ring of blackmail to it. It was your decision to make. He had no right to beat you over the head with it just because--"

"Did I hear right?" a drawling voice came from a nearby row of books, and Draco Malfoy emerged. "Potter's going to put you off your team, just because he can't keep eyes off you, she-Weasel? He's more of an idiot than I thought."

"No one asked you to join us, Malfoy," she said tartly.

"Was I looking for an invitation?"

"Just beat it, Ferret. "

"Too bad, Weasley. Do you think I came to find you just for the questionable pleasure of you odious company? No. I came to tell you that your detention will be making wart potion in the dungeons. It takes a week to prepare, so it'll last until the end of your punishment. When you have finished the required steps for the day, you will be relabeling potion supplies and, if necessary, putting them in new containers. It just to happens that there are seven rooms in the dungeons with large supply closets. You'll do one a day. Meet me six o'clock, starting Monday." He smirked at the glare she was giving him.

"You, Creevey. Zabini's looking for you. It would seem that you've managed to scrape up a detention for yourself too. Apparently, he caught you having a midnight stroll. Go on. "

Reluctantly, Colin stood. Casting Ginny a concerned glance -- he clearly wasn't happy about leaving her alone with Malfoy -- he said, "See you at lunch, Gin," and strode off into the bookshelves.

Ginny picked up her Herbology essay and studiously ignored Malfoy. He would have to go away eventually.

Ten minutes later, when he still hadn't moved, she snapped. "Alright, Malfoy, I give in. Why are you still here?"

He raised an impeccably cynical eyebrow at her and she cringed inwardly, expecting the obligatory bully/possible Death Eater type reply. To her surprise, it didn't come. "Zabini tells me you wouldn't listen to him last night."

"Go away, Malfoy. I don't have the energy right now, and what I _do _have is a foot-long essay on the beneficial vs. inimical properties of Bayvermew-Galerium vines to finish, and so far I only have seven inches."

He looked at her thoughtfully for a long moment.

Ginny glared up at him from her position on the floor amid the books."Don't try thinking so hard, you might break something." When he still did move, she added pointedly, "If you don't leave, you might get something broken anyway."

He nodded absently. "Maybe its better if you don't know after all." Then, as if he were putting on a mask that had momentarily slipped, he sneered, "Why should I, any way? Why would I lift a finger to help a Weasel-rat like you?"

"The only helpful thing I ever asked of you was that you _leave._"

"Well, it must be your lucky day, since I was on my way anyway. Tell your lover-boy he's a prat, from me."

"Like I'd do anything just because you asked me to," she grumbled to her ink bottle when he was gone.

-

On Monday evening, a disgruntled Ginny parted ways with a grouchy Colin, she to meet Malfoy and brew a wart potion, he to find Zabini and decant the school's entire supply of flobberworm mucus into new bottles without the aid of his wand. From what Ron had told them, though, they had gotten off lightly.

"There's a big infestation of doxies in a room on the fifth floor, and I'm supposed to catch them all without magic!" Ron had raged in the common room the day before. "I mean, flobberworm mucus is disgusting, mate, but at least it doesn't try to bite you!"

When Ginny reached the specified dungeon room, Malfoy was already there, waiting.

"Decided to show up at last, Weasley?"

"Oh, yes. I ran down here as fast as I could. I just can't wait to be subjected to hours of your company, especially when I have to make a wart potion at the same time. I think you can understand why I didn't rush my dinner. I'm not late, so you can't dock points."

"Nice to see you too."

"If I swear to do the detention, will you go away?"

"No."

"Didn't think so."

From her book bag, she removed her book bag from her shoulder and thumped it satisfyingly onto a chair before rooting around inside to find her potions book.

Wart potion wasn't the easiest concoction to brew, and Malfoy's constant needling did nothing to facilitate the process. When he suddenly broke off in the middle of a jeering insult, however, she looked up, concerned in spite of herself. What could be serious enough to put Malfoy off his insults?

The Slytherin prefect's badge piined to his chest was emitting a strong silvery glow. His face was very pale as he seized Ginny's wrist, dragging her out of her seat and out of the room.

"What are you doing, Malfoy?" she demanded angrily. "Let me go or I'll hex you!" She fumbled in the pocket of her robes for her wand.

"Be quiet, Weasley."

"Dammit, let me go!"

"By all means!" he suddenly said, venom in his tone, and hurled her away from him so that momentum slammed her hard into the wall of the corridor. "I couldn't care less if you get out of here alive!"

"What in the name of Merlin are you talking about?"

Malfoy made a 'God lend me patience, for I've none of my own left' face. Crossing his arms, he spoke in a tone appropriate for conversing with either the hard of hearing or the weak of wit. "There are Death Eaters in Hogwarts. That is why my badge glowed, it was a prearranged signal that McGonagall set up with all the prefects. It is now my duty to search the third floor of the dungeons for students, then get you all to the Great Hall where the anti-dissaperation charms will no longer be in place, then get the hell out of here. Either you come, or you don't Weasel. I'm not going to waste my time forcing you. "

Ginny's lips formed a silent 'O' of surprise. Apparently noticing that she was a little dazed by the sudden news -- who wouldn't be shocked to here that Hogwarts, the safest place in the world, had been attacked by Death Eaters for the second time in less then a quarter year? -- Malfoy resumed his iron grip on her wrist and continued down the stony corridor in grim silence.

Suddenly, he stopped in front of a bare expanse of wall. A slight sheen of moisture glistened off of it in the light of a tourch bracketed to the opposite wall.

"Disembowelment," Malfoy said clearly.

"What do you--" Ginny began in surprise, but before she could finish, the wall slid back to reveal a long, narrow room filled with Slytherins. It must be the Slytherin common room! Everything inside it was tinges a faint and sickly green, and Ginny guessed that it must be under the Lake.

" Sonorus," Malfoy muttered beside her, pointing his wand at his own throat, then in his magically amplified voice, said, "Everyone needs to get to the Great Hall as quickly as they can. The school is being attacked, so be prepared to encounter Death Eaters. Don't stop to get anything, just go. Now!"

No one moved.

"Why should we, Draco?" snickered Pansy Parkinson. "Its not like they'll do anything to us."

Malfoy shrugged. "It's your call. But do any of you really want to be cursed by accident? Quietus." His voice resumed its normal volume at the spell.

About half of the Slytherins followed as he towed Ginny up the stone stairways to ground level.

"You can let me go now," she said, unsure what to think or feel. Malfoy's vice-like grip had left marks on her pale skin. In the morning, she would have a rather impressive bruise.

As the small group made its way toward the Great Hall, they ran into Blaise Zabini's charges, just ahead and slightly slower. Ginny's gaze searched the group for Colin. After all, he had been with Zabini for his own detention. And there he was, giving the impression of being rather small as he always did, for all her was only a little shorter the Ginny. She wove her way through the small cluster of students to stand beside him. He gave her a slightly wobbly smile; she gripped his wrist in much the same way Malfoy had her own, though with considerably less force, trying to communicate some sense of comfort to her friend by the touch.

"There're five Death Eaters guarding this entrance," Zabini said. "We could probably make it through."

"Right," said Malfoy, taking a deep breath -- to help him think? To steady his hands? Ginny wasn't sure. "First years to the center of the group. Everyone, wands out. be ready to stun. If you can't do that yet, the body-bind curse will be next best. Ready?" Of course they weren't. "Let's go!"

They rounded the corner to face not five masked and hooded Death Eaters but nine.

"Stupefy!" a chorus of voices spoke the word at once, and about a dozen stunning spells arched their way toward Death Eaters. Five went down, the others turned on the students, curses on their lips.

"Protego!" Ginny shouted instinctively, and thought inconsequentially as the spells rebounded off her shield charm, _The professors would be disappointed that I didn't cast it nonverbally. _

Another volley of stunning spells, and the Death Eaters fell to the ground.

Noises behind them -- more Death Eaters, charging down the Grand Staircase.

"In! Now!" Zabini shouted, chivying the students into the Great Hall.

"___Avada Kedavra!" _

A jet of green flame arched burst from the tip of a familiar Death Eater's wand -- Avery Nott. Ginny had seen him at the Ministry once when she went there with her father. The spell missed the fleeing students by inches, smashing into the wall and leaving a crumbling hole.

Then they were in the Great Hall, and someone gripped her bruising wrist once more -- was it Malfoy or Zabini? She wasn't sure until she saw Zabini nearby, pivoting on the spot with several students, including Colin hanging onto him.

Then Malfoy too was turning, spinning them and a trio of Slytherin second years into darkness as well. The sound of shouted incantations and screams and small explosions drifted away, into the darkness, and then Ginny's feet slammed into the ground again.

They were in the forest where the Quidditch Cup had been located. Many, many students milled around the clearing, frightened and in some cases injured.

Ginny was seized into a huge hug from behind. "Thank God you got out of there!"

"Ron?"

"Yeah. Harry and Hermione are okay too. I don't think anyone has --" _died. _The word seemed to hang in the air.

Amid the confusion and panic, the shouts of teachers and students alike, Ginny looked out toward the rising crescent moon and wondered, _Will I ever see Hogwarts again?_

* * *

**What do you think? Review and let me know! -- Lizzy**


	3. Owls and the Order

Chapter Three: Owls and the Order

**HOGWARTS NO LONGER SAFE  
Article by Bob Bankin**

After the recent attack on Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry by a large and as yet still at liberty group of Death Eaters, the Ministry of Magic has declared the age old school no longer safe for our children to attend.

"The risk is just too great," says Minister of Magic Rufus Scrimgeour. "I shudder to think what might have happened that night. Part of the problem is that Hogwarts is too well know. Witches and wizards have been attending that school for generation. The castle is riddled with secret passages and magical objects that have been discovered by Death Eaters and those willing to serve You Know Who while they were at school. It is simply not safe."

After the attack, much suspicion was cast on one Draco Malfoy, who is believed to be responsible for the similar attack on Hogwarts last June, but it would seem that Mr. Malfoy, son of loyal supporter of He Who Must Not Be Named Lucius Malfoy, has taken a very different stand from his father. When asked to comment on the attack, young Mr. Malfoy declined to say more then, "Damned if I know how they got in."

He is incontrovertibly known to have been otherwise occupied when the attack was staged, by the testament of Ginevra "Ginny" Molly Weasley, the daughter of the Ministry employee Arthur Weasley.

"He was overseeing a detention that he had given me," said Miss Weasley when presenting evidence before the Wizengamot. "We were in the dungeons."

When asked what the reaction of the Malfoy heir was when he became aware of the attack, Miss Weasley said, "He went dead pale, then grabbed my wrist and started dragging me around the dungeons. I thought he'd gone mad, until he explained what was going on. He pulled me all the way through the Slytherin common room, then took all the students there up to the ground floor. We ran into Zabini and Colin -- er, Blaise Zabini and Colin Creevey. Colin was doing a detention with Zabini at the same time I was doing mine with Malfoy. Zabini had a bunch of students with him, and there were Death Eaters. Somehow we got through to the Great Hall, and Zabini and Malfoy apperated us out of there."

Headmistress Minerva McGonagall was --

CONTINUED ON PAGE 5

**DEFENSE AGAINST THE DARK ARTS TEACHER'S BODY FOUND  
Article by Leah C. Nabayano**

Professor Harold "Bongo" St. John Wervon of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was found last night, dead in the extensive grounds of Hogwarts castle. The lack of markings on the body bring St. Mungo's specialists to conclude that Wervon was murdered on the night of the attack on Hogwarts school, by means of the Avada Kadavera curse.

"I just don't know what I'll do without Harold," said wife Mariah Wervon, a healer of St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries on sabbatical.

What Headmistress Minerva McGonagall thinks of all this, it is impossible to tell. McGonagall is reported to have barricaded herself inside her office, recently vacated by late Headmaster Albus Dumbledore.

"Go away!" she is known to call whenever disturbed. "I'm busy!"

Should the school reopen, it is a common query to ask, 'What will be done for a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher?'

The post has long been rumored to be jinxed, though --

CONTINUED ON PAGE 7

-

_Draco Malfoy sends his regards to Headmistress McGonagall._

_Professor,_

_It has come to my attention that Hogwarts castle is no longer a safe venue for school to be held. As I have no wish to wait another year or longer to continue my education, I would like to offer Malfoy Manor as a temporary location for the school. _

_I am sure that you have qualms about accepting this offer. Perhaps I can put a few of them to rest._

_My father, Lucius Malfoy, has no clam on the Manor since I turned seventeen on the Thursday before the start of term. My grandfather, Abraxas Malfoy, left it in his will to my Uncle Tiberius, who made me his heir before his death twelve years ago. Until I turned seventeen, Father was rightful owner of Malfoy Manor as my parent, but since I have come into my inheritance I have forbidden his to enter the grounds or Manor on any condition. The only inhabitants of the Manor at the current moment are myself, my mother, and a few servants. If you wish it, I am willing to swear the Unbreakable Vow not willingly allow my father back in._

_Please consider my offer. I am perfectly prepared to accept any security measures you or the Ministry believe to be necessary._

_Sincerely,_

_Draco Malfoy_

-

_Dear Miss Weasley,_

_We are pleased to inform you that school will be resuming in two day's time (September 21) at Malfoy Manor. All possible security measures have been taken to ensure your, and the other student's, safety. _

_As there are no trains in the area of Malfoy Manor, students will please arrive by floo powder at the Ministry office in the nearby town of Bandering Coliton (A/N: there is no Bandering Coliton)._

_Your education will resume as normal._

_Looking forward to seeing you on the evening of September 21,_

_Professor McGonagall, Headmistress_

-

"Mum," said Ginny, "Mine says exactly the same thing Ron's did, but without the bit about N.E.W.T.s."

"Well, I must say," said Mrs. Weasley, "I'm not too comfortable about sending you off into a Death Eater's lair, Ginnybean, but in times like these, we can't afford to be too pick. Oh, hello, Colin dear."

A very sleepy looking Colin had come down to the breakfast table. He, his brother Dennis, Harry and Hermione had been staying with the Weasleys until there was any definite news about Hogwarts.

"Good morning, Mrs. Weasley," Colin said, yawning impressively and eying the small flock of owls that perched on the breakfast table with some trepidation.

"Look!" Ginny exclaimed, snatching up Colin's letter and waving it in his face. He managed to capture the letter, broke the seal, and read.

"Thats great!" he said when he had finished. "I was a bit worried that I might have to be a sixth year for a good long while before we could go back. It was looking a bit grim for a while back there."

"I wonder what McGonagall will do for a Defense teacher, since Wervon's dead."

"I won't pretend he was the best teacher," Colin said, looking a bit solemn. "But its awful that he died."

"Yeah," Ginny looked down at her toast. She felt rather guilty about all the disparaging remarks she had made about Wervon now that he was dead. She knew that that was having double standards -- be nice to people once they're dead and treat them any old how while they're alive -- but she couldn't help feeling that way.

The catch of the front door rattled, and Mr. Weasley walked in closely followed by Fred and George.

"Morning Gin Heart, Colin," he said, and kissed Mrs. Weasley.

"Hello you two," Ginny said to her grinning, identical brothers. "What's dragged you away from the joke shop?"

"Good question," said George.

"Wish we knew," Fred added.

Ginny frowned, puzzled. "What do you mean?"

Fred snagged a piece of her toast and took a bite before answering. "We're on our way to Head Quarters. Dad got word that something's up, and he wanted to let you lot know before we head off for old Number 12. Apparently Kingsley--"

"Now George--" Mrs. Weasley began, looking fierce.

"He's Fred, _I'm _George," said George looking offended.

"The _both of you_ know that you aren't supposed to discuss Order business with Ginny."

"That's plain not fair!" Ginny complained. "Everyone else in that family is in the Order since Ron turned seventeen, 'cept for Percy, anyway."

"Is something up?" Harry and Ron stood at the foot of the stairs, each sporting an impressive array of bed head.

"Did you say the Order?" Hermione was just behind them.

"I want to hear!" piped up little Dennis Creevey, not yet visible behind the Dream Team.

"Ginny, Dennis, Colin, _OUT!" _roared Mrs. Weasley. "You're all too young to join the Order, and while I can keep you out of trouble, _I will!"_

"Just you wait!" Ginny called five minutes later when her mother had finally succeeded in chivying her and the Creeveys outside. "I'll be seventeen come May nineteenth, and the first thing I'm going to do when I've come of age is join the bloody Order of the Phoenix! You see if I don't!"

"Don't let me hear you using that kind of language with _me, _young lady!" Mrs. Weasley shot back, slamming the kitchen door.

"Ah well," said Colin consolingly.

"We can start our own Order!" said Dennis enthusiastically.

"Yeah," the corner of Ginny's mouth twitched upward as she sat down cross-legged in the over long grass of the Weasley garden. "We can call it the Order of the Peonies."

"Alright!" Dennis enthused.

"No, Dennis," said Colin, sitting down next to Ginny and wishing he'd thought to bring some toast out. "Definitely not."

"Oh," said Dennis, crestfallen. "Alright, then.

-

The man at the desk sighed as he surveyed the wreck that had once been a beautiful carpet. Now its magnificent shade of magenta was obscured with mud, ash, and burn marks.

"Bloody floo network," he muttered as the flames in his fireplace once again turned as green as emeralds. "Bloody school."

A rapidly spinning form came into view, spiraling downward to land feet first in the fireplace. As the flames died down again, a tall girl with glowingly red hair stepped out of the grate, scattering cinders behind her and dragging a large trunk.

"Er, good evening, sir," she said.

The man behind the desk shot her a dirty look. No matter how charming and polite she might be, she had contributed to the destruction of the carpet.

Two jets of green fire later, three students stood in the office.

"Shall we be off, then?" said Colin Creevey.

"Alright," Ginny Weasley said, still eying the man behind the desk with some concern.

"Wish I could apperate like the others did," said Dennis.

"I wish he could too," Colin murmured in Ginny's ear.

"Oh, come on," she breathed back. "He's not _that _bad."

"Its not that," he said with a sigh. "Its that _I _used to be just like he is now. Except I was armed with a camera."

"I'm the one who hardly spoke for a year because I was so busy dreaming about dashing Harry Potter," Ginny grinned.

"Exactly my point!" Colin said. "At least you were quiet about your insanity, right?"

"What's funny?" Dennis demanded of his breathlessly laughing brother a minute later.

"Nothing!" Colin gasped. "Nothing at all!"

"The look on your face when you said that, Colin!" Ginny giggled. "So mournful! 'At least you were quiet --' " the meaning of her next words was lost in laughter.

"I'm going on ahead," said Dennis sulkily. "Maybe Damian's here already."

Finally, Ginny and Colin managed to pull themselves together enough to leave. Ginny sent a cheery wave in the direction of the man behind the desk as she went out the door, which he returned with an icy glare.

"Well, wasn't _he _friendly," Ginny muttered.

"Odd sort of carpet that, though, wasn't it?"

"Why?"

"Under all the dust and ashes and things, it was the most awful shade of purple. Do you suppose we should go right or left?"

"Right," Ginny said after a moment's thought. "There're a bunch of foot prints and places where trunks have been dragged around that way."

"Wow," said Colin as they rounded a bend and Malfoy Manor came into sight.

"Wow," Ginny agreed.

"It's huge! Must be bigger then Hogwarts!"

"Well of course it is," said a sneering voice, and both Gryffindors looked up to see Draco Malfoy, leaning casually on an ornate iron gate, each door of which was marked with a fancy 'M' in silver.

"What do you mean by 'of course,' Malfoy?" Colin asked, a touch of ice in his tone that he never used with Ginny.

"I mean that if your family goes back to the beginning of wizarding history, there a certain things that become tradition. Being a m" --Colin's eyes tightened and for a moment Ginny too was certain that Malfoy would say Mudblood-- "--uggleborn, you wouldn't know that Creevey. And the she-Weasel wouldn't know either, bloodtraitor that she is."

"If you have a point, get to it, Malfoy. If not, let us in." Ginny said in the exaggeratedly bored voice that always drove her mother up the wall. Malfoy, however, just smirked.

_He thinks he so great, _Ginny thought furiously. _He thinks he's so clever, so smooth, so good looking-- _she blinked. He _was _good looking. Somehow she'd never noticed before.

"My point, Weasley, is that Malfoy Manor has been around for eighty-three generations. Nearly every Malfoy in those eighty-three generations has made some addition to the Manor. After that long, of course its big."

"Fine, Malfoy. Now let us through."

He shrugged and pressed his left palm to the lock on the gate. It glowed a red to rival Ginny's hair, and she saw his lips move, forming the syllables of some kind of password. With a loud click, the gate swung wide.

"Thanks ever so for the charming conversation," Ginny said sweetly, and marched past Malfoy after Colin.

As they got closer, the Manor seemed to loom larger and larger over them.

"It really is enormous, though," she said.

Colin nodded, then gave Ginny a squeeze around the shoulders with the arm he wasn't using to drag his trunk. "It looks . . . I don't know."

"Ominous," Ginny said, returning Colin's one armed embrace.

"Yes, that's it. Ominous."

* * *

**What do you think? Review and let me know! -- Lizzy**


	4. The New Regimen

Chapter Four: The New Regimen

The interior of the Entrance Hall of Malfoy Manor seemed to have been made solely of marble. Shining white pillars lined the walls, reflected dimly in the obsidian depths of the polished floor. Between the pillars on the wall hung portraits, each of a stern and unsmiling individual, each with the Malfoy ice-gray eyes, each with a torch on either side, the better to illuminate their cold, pointed faces.

_He really wasn't kidding about all those ancestors, _Ginny realized as she and Colin walked slowly down the long hall. Their footsteps rang strangely in the empty expanse.

"Where do you s'pose we go now?" she asked, more to break the echoing silence then anything else.

"Sir and miss is welcome to Malfoy Manor and the continuing of their education in magic!" piped up a voice before Colin could answer. A house elf, large ears aflap, stood before them at the end of the hall.

"Hello," Ginny said.

"Hello," Colin echoed, bemused. Ginny remembered that he'd never seen a house elf before.

"Sir and miss is to leave their belongings with Mopsy and go through that door," the small creature indicated a set of mahogany double doors just to the left, "To the Crystal Hall and join the other students for a welcoming feast."

"Thanks, Mopsy," said Ginny brightly and set down her trunk.

"Miss is very kind," the house elf said, beaming.

"Not at all," Ginny replied, as was only proper. "Come on, Colin," she muttered to her friend who was still staring a Mopsy in utter confusion.

"What was it -- she?" he asked as Ginny led him away toward the double doors.

"She's a house elf. Don't ask Hermione about them, whatever you do."

"Oh! Is _that _what the whole spew thing was about, back in third year?"

"S.P.E.W, Colin!" Ginny said in a creditable imitation of Hermione's most aggravated tones. He smiled.

"Alright then, S.P.E.W.. But what -- wow."

Ginny nodded in mute agreement. If the Entrance Hall was made of marble, the Crystal Hall was made of ice. Bewitched to never melt and carved into tables, benches, steps, the ceiling even, frozen water glittered and cast off rainbows in the light of a hundred floating candelabra and the enormous fire at the far end, behind what was obviously the staff table. It gave even Ginny, a girl who had grown up with fizzing whisbies and self-knitting yarn, a strange sense of vertigo to see a fire cheerfully burning in a icicle encrusted, frozen fireplace. Through the crystalline ceiling, the stars were visible as they emerged from the darkening sunset sky, reminding her forceably of the Great Hall's roof back a Hogwarts. She wondered whether the Malfoys had copied the idea, then she realized that Malfoy Manor had been standing for long enough that the Hogwarts founders might have been the imitators.

"You could go ice skating in here better then on the Lake at Hogwarts," she breathed inconsequentially.

When she was finally able to think of something other then the huge room's splendor, Ginny saw that Ron, Harry and Hermione were waving her and Colin over to a table. The Crystal Hall was set up differently from the Great Hall, with three rows of tables, not four. As she slid onto the bench next to Hermione, she asked in and undertone -- the very vastness of the place seemed to mark against raised voices -- "Which house do you suppose will have to give up their table?"

"Gryffindor," said Ron, at the same time as Hermione said, "Ravenclaw," and Colin said "Hufflepuff."

A beat after the others, Harry said, "What's the betting that Malfoy's got things sorted so the Slytherins don't even have to sit in the same room as us lowly mortals?" He looked so cheerful and relaxed that for a moment Ginny forgot about the moody aggressive person he'd been lately.

"Nah," said Ron. "Its got to be Gryffindor. Malfoy's always had it in for us Gryffindor types."

"But Malfoy wouldn't be the one making the decision, would he," said Colin reasonably. "The teachers would be, and they're all smart enough to know that the only house that gets along with all the others is Hufflepuff."

" 'Course they're smart," Ron commented. "Else they wouldn't be teachers, right?"

"Not counting Snape into all this, are you?" said Harry with a grin.

"Oh, look!" Ginny said, nodding toward the staff table. "There's a new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher! I wondered whether McGonagall would be able to get another at such short notice after what happened to Wervon."

"You might not like Professor Snape, Harry," said Hermione after a curious look up at the thin, dark haired man who looked to be about forty seated between Professors Sinistra and Flitwick. "But no one can deny that he's got brains."

"Yeah, which sort of brain is worse," Ron muttered, "Snape's conniving one, or the ones that attacked me in the Department of Mysteries?"

"I'd take the Ministry ones any day," said Harry.

"I still think that its Ravenclaw that will end up sharing," said Hermione, making a heroic effort to continue some sort of conversation over Harry and Ron's Snape bashing.

"Why?" Ginny asked.

"All the other houses have problems with grudges. Hufflepuff is just too loyal, Gryffindor is just as bad, and Slytherins will take the least insult and be out for revenge -- and revenge happens to be a Slytherin talent. Ravenclaws are smart enough to know that a time like this, what with Voldemort rising and Hogwarts having been attacked, is no time for petty rivalry."

"Are you saying that the rest of us are a load of duffers?" Ginny grinned.

"In a manner of speaking, yes."

"Hey," said Ron mildly.

"Students," Professor McGonagall's voice rang out across the hall. "May I have your attention please."

The hum of voices dropped to little more then a buzz as students either looked around at the headmistress or continued their conversations in whispers.

"I will not keep you from your meal for long, but there are several things that it is necessary for you all to hear before you are too tired to pay them mind. As you may have noticed, the house tables are no longer present. This is for a very specific reason. In this time of trouble, I have decided, after consulting with the staff, that it would be in the best interests of Hogwarts school that we dispense, for the time being, with the house system."

Gasps echoed around the Hall. The odd cry of 'no!' and 'that's rubbish!' added to the noise.

McGonagall raised her voice over the clamor. "You are students to the legacy of all four of our founders, and in that spirit, I would ask you to treat each other as such. Neither Helga Hufflepuff, nor Rowena Ravenclaw, nor Salazar Slytherin, nor Godric Gryffindor could have begun Hogwarts without the aid of one the others. In these difficult times, we similarly will not be capable of withstanding the tides of misfortune if we do not stand strongly together. However, I also understand the bond that each and every student has with his or her house, so we shall allow the house names to live on in the Quidditch teams, though students from houses other then the nominary one may join a team.

"Also, students are warned not to go exploring in the Manor. Although it has been thoroughly searched, we cannot guarantee that all dangerous artifacts and creatures have been removed. On your peril, do not go wandering about.

"On a more cheerful note, please welcome a new member to the staff. Professor Tragedus Sable has kindly agreed to take up the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher." There was a smattering of polite applause as Sable stood momentarily. He looked tired and a little the worse for wear, threads of silver glinting in his dark hair. For a moment, Ginny was reminded of Remus on the first day he'd arrived at Hogwarts, a bit shabby and looking dead on his feet.

Ginny was shaken from her thoughts by McGonagall continuing her speech. "Now more then ever, his subject is of the utmost importance, as are all your studies. You are the young ones this time; you are the ones who will fight this battle. Each and every one of you forms and integral part of the resistance against the Dark Lord, and I ask that you treat yourselves as such. One day, not only your own lives but the lives of your friends and family may depend on your mastery of the spells you now struggle with. Remember this as you go about your classes, but we must not let He Who Must Not Be Named cast a shadow on our lives. Laugh. Talk. Enjoy the light while it lasts, and treasure its memory when the dark touches your life.

"And now, let the feast begin."

As the golden plates from Hogwarts filled up with delicious looking food, Ginny noticed that the ice of the table top had a grain, exactly as if it were wood.

Harry had two twin vertical lines between his brows, and he rubbed his temples as though he had a headache. Distractedly he leaned forward to whisper to Ron and Hermione, though with Ginny's sharp ears she managed to catch the words.

"Four. There are four more of them to find, and we're just sitting here, safe at school while things get worse and worse. We should be helping to fight. I never should have let you talk me into --"

"Quiet, Harry!" Hermione hissed. "You know that it makes sense to stay, at least until after the N.E.W.T.s. What are three under qualified teenagers supposed to do against Lord -- _him._"

Tom. They were talking about Tom. Ginny shivered and hastily reached for a steaming roll as Colin filled their goblets with icy pumpkin juice. Every time she thought of Tom -- Lord Voldemort -- an image of the Chamber of Secrets flashed across her mind, Tom leaning over her, a cruel smile on his handsome features.

Colin rubbed Ginny's arm comfortingly, apparently without noticing what he was doing. She shook herself free of the memory and smiled at her friend, who was still surreptitiously goggling at the Hall around them. Funny how closely you could grow into someone. They'd know each other for five years, and it was second nature to be together, not something that they had to think about when the other needed them.

"Hello, Ginny," said a downcast Neville, sitting down across from her and interrupting what she now realized was a rather sentimental train of thought.

"Hi, Neville," she replied, then, taking a closer look at his expression, asked, "What's wrong?"

The woefully clumsy but kindhearted boy stared morosely into his mashed potatoes.

"All that stuff she was saying," he said. "I'm no use at all, at least not since the D.A. stopped."

"Don't be a prat, Neville," said Colin, smiling at the older boy. "You're brilliant at Herbology. Jinxes and hexes and fancy spells aren't the only way to help."

The corner of Neville's mouth twitched upward slightly. "I guess you're right, but I wish I _were _good at hexes and things."

"Well," said Ginny, deliberately steering the conversation into a lighter vein. "I'll teach you the Bat Bogey Hex after classes tomorrow, then. I'm sure Ron won't mind if we practice on him." Raising her voice, she called down the table, "Will you, Ron?"

"What?" her brother returned, looking apprehensive when he saw the wicked gleam in his sister's eye. That look meant trouble. It was the same one that the twins wore when they were up to something, the one Bill always said was worth a full week's detention and a howler from their mum. "What're you up to, Gin?"

"Nothing," she said too innocently as Colin and Neville laughed.

Shrugging, Ron turned back to his conversation with Harry and Hermione. Harry had his moody look on again.

_Lovely, _Ginny thought as she studied the bags under his eyes. _At least we don't have Quidditch tonight. Though, knowing what he's been like this year, he'll probably schedule a practice for tomorrow. And the day after. _She sighed. _It must be hard for him right now, with all that 'Chosen One' rubbish getting chucked at his head. I hope he doesn't go and do something stupid just because he thinks its his duty . . . _From the sounds of things, Ron and Hermione had already had to talk him out of one hare-brained scheme.

"I wonder where the Quidditch matches will be held," she said to distract herself from that line of thought.

"There's a pitch in the grounds," Neville said. At Colin and Ginny's disbelieving looks, he went on, "I've seen it with my own eyes. I got lost on the way here from that Ministry office. Its as big as the one at Hogwarts, and really fancy too."

"Wow," said Ginny, wondering how many more times the Manor would inspire that particular exclamation.

Colin swallowed a massive mouthful of onion pie. "Probably one of those ancient Malfoys that out current one is always going on about played for England."

"Or wanted to," said Ginny, unwilling to believe that the combination of her country and her favorite sport would be so idiotic as to accept a Malfoy into their midst.

"Quidditch," came a disgusted mutter Hermione, who had apparently been listening to the latter part of their conversation.

Ginny grinned. "Its only you who doesn't like it, Hermione."

The older girl could only roll her eyes at that. Ever since she'd gone to Slughorn's Christmas party with that prat McLaggen, Ginny had noted a definite upsurge in Hermione's dislike of the constant discussion of Quidditch.

"Oh, look, pudding," said a dreamy voice from behind her, and Ginny turned to see a familiar pair of popping, misty blue eyes in a pale face framed by long, dirty-blond hair.

"Hi, Luna," Ginny said, scooting over to make room.

"I was just coming over to say hello," Luna said, taking the offered seat. "But I guess I'll stay for pudding, since its come up." true enough, the heaps of potato, savory pie, chops and the like had vanished in favor of dessert. "There are rather a lot of nargles hovering by the rest of the Ravenclaws."

"Oh dear," said Harry, momentarily jerked out of his black mood by the endearingly odd girl's appearance.

"Though," Luna went on serenely, "I suppose I oughtn't to call them that any more. You three," she pointed to Harry, Ron, and Ginny in turn, "Are lucky. At least you're still Gryffindors. The rest of us have to make do. I'm not sure that it was a good idea for Professor McGonagall to get rid of the house system."

Hermione nodded. "You mean, like with unpleasant relatives, sometimes it's easier to maintain a cordial relationship with some one if you have a little distance between you."

Luna nodded in return, smiling absently, and helped herself to some blackberry pudding.

Ginny leaned back on the bench and stretched her arms, yawning. "I'm really tired. I hope that the feast ends soon."

Colin nodded in fervent agreement. "Something about the Floo really takes it out of me."

Up at the staff table, Professor McGonagall rose to her feet. The golden plates instantly became clean.

"As it is very late, I am sure that all of you are eager to be getting to bed."

"Since when has she read minds?" Colin whispered in Ginny's ear, making her snort.

"The house elves will show you to your respective rooms, and while the school is in residence here, I would like to remind you all that we are guests here. Leave things as you find them. And now, goodnight. You have classes in the morning."

There was a great scraping noise as the many ice-crafted benches slid back against the the frozen floor. Small figures were bobbing in and out among the students, collecting five or six and heading out into the Manor.

Mopsy, the elf who had directed them into the Crystal Hall, tapped Colin politely on the wrist so he would look down.

"Will sir allow Mopsy to show him to his room?" she squeaked.

"Oh, er, thanks," Colin said.

Ginny grinned at him. "See you bright and early tomorrow morning for Transfiguration."

He groaned in mock horror. "If I live that long. Whats the betting that McGonagall gives us a killer essay even though its the first day back? 'Night, Gin. Hermione, Ron, Harry, Luna, Neville."He nodded to them, then turned and followed Mopsy out of the hall. Soon, the four seventh years and Luna were lead away by a cheerful elf, who kept eying Hermione with a certain degree of mistrust. The house elves had not yet forgiven her for trying to free them.

Ginny made her way toward the doors, and was soon waylaid by the most strange looking personage she had ever seen. A house elf with wide, moss green eyes, who was wearing a heap of hats that stacked up to about three feet above his head, mis-matched socks, and a maroon jumper dotted with various pins reading things like 'Marmadillo's Quality Jam' and 'Sugar by Cubo.'

"Hello," she said. "You must be Dobby. I've heard a lot about you."

Dobby beamed. "Is miss knowing Harry Potter?"

"Yeah, he's my brother's best friend."

"You is the sister of Master Weezey?" The elf was clearly thrilled.

She sharply bit back a laugh and nodded.

"It is Master Weezey who is giving Dobby his jumper." He plucked at the loose garment, then seemed to remember what he was supposed to be doing. "Dobby will show miss to her room. He aught to have been up from the kitchens sooner, but Peeves got into the soup pans."

"Oh, no," Ginny groaned as she followed the elf out of the Hall and through a set of double doors opposite the ones Mopsy had directed her and Colin through. "Peeves followed the school here?"

"Yes, Miss Weezey."

Ever since Fred and George left, Peeves had seemed to think it his duty to follow Ginny around when he had nothing worse to do, asking after Fred and George and shooting ink pellets at whoever happened to be near her. It was enough to make one wonder whether being hated by the poltergeist wasn't better then having his liking.

_It all comes, _she thought,_ of being too much like the twins and not a prat like Percy or a good little prefect like Bill and Charlie or even an oblivious moron, like dear little Ronny._

"It must be hard for you to be back here, after how awful the Malfoys were to you," she said sympathetically. It reminded her a bit of Sirius, who she had really quite liked for all his recklessness -- perhaps even for that madcap gaiety he sometimes showed, rather then the brooding face of a man who had been in Azkaban for far too long -- who had been returned to number twelve, Grimauld Place when he thought he'd escaped it forever.

"Miss is very kind to think of Dobby, but she must not worry. Things is very different now from what then was."

The elf halted in front of a rather small door made predictably out of mahogany, with molded bronze hinges and a carving of a rearing dragon in the center.

"Miss is to sleep here," Dobby said. "Here is the key." He handed her a small key, bronze like the knob and hinges, with a dragon to match the carven one. "She is advised to keep her door locked at all times, for her own protection. All but a few of the locks in Malfoy Manor is spelled against enchantment, so miss's belongings will be quite safe."

"Thanks, Dobby. Shall I tell Harry you said hello?"

"Oh, yes please, miss. You is just as kindly as your brother!" With that, the elf skipped off back toward the kitchens, leaving Ginny wondering what Ron had done to gain the elf's admiration. _Surely just giving him a plug-ugly jumper wouldn't do that._

Ginny bent down to examine the door knob, and frowned. There was no key hole. The instant her skin brushed the metal as she tried to turn it, however, the great carved dragon began to move, the grain of the wood rippling as it passed. It leaped into the carven sky, circled three times, them let out a great bout of wooden flames, which very realistically seemed to burn down one of the background trees near the knob. A moment later, when the false flames died away, a keyhole was revealed, just behind where the tree had been.

Ginny stared for a moment, then shook her head, resisting the urge to say 'wow' again. Casually magical things were no mystery to her, but she'd never seen it so thoroughly permeate a place as it did here. At Hogwarts, most of the magical surprises seemed more like jokes and tricks than anything else, added on as an after thought, mere ornaments. Here . . . magic seemed to be used for more then just decoration.

A tingling sensation spread from her fingers all through her body. Had she ever been in a more powerfully, historically magical place before? Maybe Egypt, but that was sleeping now, its glory days over and done with. This place was very much alive, and not entirely friendly.

Carefully, she inserted the key into the lock, and opened the door.

-

Ginny rolled over on the unfamiliar bed, the slick sheets strange against her skin. She couldn't seem to get to sleep. Every time she closed her eyes, they sprang back open, as if of their own accord.

With and impatient sigh, she gave up on sleeping and sat up in bed, fumbled on the nightstand for her wand and muttered,"Incendio," to light the candle.

She'd been surprised by how -- _normal _her room was when she first entered. There were no sinister paintings, no nasty looking organs suspended in potions, or even a tasteless and disturbing piece of furniture, such as the troll's foot umbrella stand at number twelve Grimauld Place, just a shelf, a comfortable looking armchair, her own trunk, a desk, dresser, nightstand, and fourposter bed: things one might see in any bedroom. There was a soft blue rug on the floor and a blatantly magical tapestry on one of the walls, next to a window which overlooked a small inner courtyard. It was very comfortable, in fact. Not at all what one would expect from a Death Eater's house.

But still she couldn't sleep.

Throwing back the muted green sheets, Ginny got up and put her clothes from the day before back on. She glanced at her watch. It read two in the morning.

Usually, when she couldn't sleep, Ginny would read for a few minutes and then drop right off, but tonight felt different. she needed to get up, walk around, _do _something. A small voice in her mind that sounded remarkably like her mother told her that it would be incredibly stupid to ignore all the warnings she'd been given and go exploring. She paid it no heed.

_Just like Fred and George, _she thought wryly.

Careful to slip both her key and her wand into her pocket, Ginny quietly made her way out of her room and into the hallway. She began walking in the opposite direction of the Crystal Hall and the pasts of the Manor she had seen before.

The corridor seemed endless, lined with fantastical paintings and stern portraits, busts of famous witches and wizards, doors that stood slightly ajar to reveal comfortable sitting rooms; an exact copy of the court room Ginny had been taken to to make her statement about what happened the night of the attack; a narrow chute whose and she couldn't make out; a room lined with violins of ranging sizes, each with a dagger plunged through the sound box so they were pinned to the wall like beetles in a collection; a dining room utterly devoid of occupants, but still the knifes and forks clipped against the plates, baring invisible food to unseen mouthes, and Ginny could have sworn she heard a murmur of voices.

Every time she came to an open door, she steeled herself to go in, but never quite did, only looking in from the doorway, her lit wand illuminating the room.

At last she came to a room filled with mirrors. Just at the edge of a reflection, she could see something that presumably lay further into the room. Curiosity overcame her, and she stepped into the room.

It was very had to tell what direction she was moving in. In the instant she took her eyes from one mirror and into another, her balance seemed to tilt. Biting her lip, she looked at the floor instead, but that was no good, and it was made of mirror glass too, as was the ceiling. All the mirrors tilted at odd angles, reflecting one another and Ginny a hundred-thousand times.

She closed her eyes and groped her was toward what she thought was the center of the room. She was no longer sure, really. She had no notion of how large the room might be, or of which direction she had come in from.

After what seemed like hours of edging along between mirrors, eyes tightly closed, her questing fingers encountered something other then the glassy surface of a standing mirror or its frame. She opened her eyes to see a strange sight. A basin made of something like thick black glass or maybe smooth obsidian or marble sat on a small, delicately carven table. Picked out around the edge in silver wire were what Ginny at first too to be runes, then she quickly identified them as backwards letters. They read:

_-rorrim eht dnoyeb ees ew od noitcelfer ni ylno rof ,wonk uoy tahw nopu tcelfeR - _

Glancing up into the mirrored ceiling, Ginny read,

_-Reflect upon what you know, for only in reflection do we see beyond the mirror-_

"Sounds like the sort of mad thing Dumbledore would have said, if _he _were stupid enough to get into this room," she muttered, then examined the basin more closely. It was filled with a vaporous, silvery-white substance that drifted and swirled in beautiful but not quite recognizable patterns. Curious, Ginny leaned closer, hands braced on either side of the table as she peered directly down into the substance. Was it a potion? If it was, then it was unlike any that she had ever seen before.

Suddenly, she stifled a yawn in her hand. She'd done what she set out to do; she would be able to sleep now, she was certain.

As she straightened up preparatory to leaving the strange room, she caught sight of herself in an angled mirror. Her equilibrium shaken, she staggered to the side, bumped into the table, and thrust out a hand to stop her fall. Its sank straight into the mist-like potion that lay, pearly white, in the basin.

And then she seemed to be falling, tumbling in a great rush of wind, downward.

To where, she did not know.

-

**Please leave a review to let me know what you think! - Lizzy  
**


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